Ghost Writer
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: A collection of unrelated AU Halloween themed one shots written for the Castle Halloween Bash 2016.
1. Grizzly tail

**A/N:** A collection of unrelated AU Halloween themed one shots written for the Castle Halloween Bash 2016. They will vary in theme and rating. Warnings will be posted as appropriate. Thank you for reading.

* * *

 **What do you see in those yellow eyes?**

 **'Cause I'm falling to pieces**

* * *

She's been gone a month, maybe a little more, when the desire drives him out into the late afternoon sun. The pleading eyes of her father offers no deterrent, the caution Lanie throws at him falling on deaf ears. His own suspicion and, of course, love for Kate spur him into action.

The cabin is ridiculously secluded for a woman recovering from a gunshot wound and, as the last twenty miles or so fall away with no sign of civilisation, his belief takes hold. The rental pitches a fit as it hits a rock, shakes and forces his attention back to the ever changing landscape. He's getting close now and he doesn't have much time.

Sunset is only an hour away.

* * *

That she answers when he knocks take him by surprise, he half expected her to have barricaded herself in against the oncoming threat. But his fist has barely connected with door once before she throws it open wide, her eyes flying to the setting sun behind him.

"Did you hear me coming?" He asks, half heartedly attempting to joke his way into a conversation.

Her gaze startles to his briefly before she tries to close the door in his face. "You can't be here, Castle."

Frustration boils immediately and weeks of them being apart sends it rocketing to the surface.

"Too late, Kate." Castle growls, pushing as hard as he dares, keeping her from barring the way. "We need to talk."

She grunts and a sharp spasm of guilt stabs at his gut. The gunshot wound in her chest still new, still raw and here he is forcing her to push against the heavy door of the cabin, to argue with him.

It's almost too much, too ridiculous a theory even for him. Just as he's doubting himself enough to apologize and step back her entire body spasms in front of him. He sees the way her hands fall to her stomach instead of her wounded side, clutching at her thin frame through the over-sized shirt. Her knees buckle and he catches her before she can go down hard on the stone floor.

"Get out."

"No."

In his arms now, chest to chest, something flares behind her iris, yellower somehow in the setting sunlight. Defiant, angry. Scared too he can see. She clings to him for a heartbeat before pushing away.

"Please, Castle." Kate hisses, the strain of keeping herself upright bleeding through every pore, visible in every tense muscle and throbbing vein making itself know.

The darkness settles in around them, light fading and she barks, "Castle leave."

"No." The next time she grips her stomach, he pushes his way inside. With one hand under her arm Castle drags Beckett with him, raising his hands in defeat when she shrugs him off and clambers for the couch.

His name on her lips in desperation startles him, but not in the way she hopes. It grounds him, makes him resilient.

"Please." She gasps, "Rick, I can't do this right now."

"Don't think you have a choice Beckett. I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't understand." She growls, whines, clamps a hand over her mouth to silence herself.

"More than you give me credit for." He sighs, pulls a chair from the table and sits down heavily, "You have about fifteen minutes until the moon's up." Her gaze startles to him and he nods, "I know. And I'm not going _anywhere_."

"I'll kill you." It's not a threat she sounds terrified, face twisting in pain.

"You disappear, Kate." He starts, determined to tell his story, and she clings to the sound of his voice as her bones start to shift. "I thought it was me, maybe you needed a break, but then I noticed the pattern. Every twenty nine days."

He doesn't move when she pitches forward, landing hard on her knees, but she sees him grimace, forcibly holding himself back from going to her aid. She's grateful, couldn't stand it if she hurt him.

"You take off, get out of the city. Three days, always three and you come back looking more exhausted than before you left."

Something shatters and he forces himself not to flinch, keeping his movement as minimal as he can.

Castle swipes at his face when she cries out, closes his eyes and carries on. "I've done some research."

"You wooo...would." Beckett grunts, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Everything racing fast through her blood, beyond her control and agonizing. Her vision blurs then rights itself and everything burns with crystal clarity. She can see the blue of Castle's eyes as though the rest of the world exists in black and white.

Outside an owl hoots, the rustle of a snake unaware it's being preyed upon. The mice in the roof.

Too much. Too loud.

Castle's heartbeat. Stronger than the rest. Louder. Thump, thump, thump. She'll never hear it again if he stays.

She forces herself to her feet, stumbles backwards and glares when he goes to stand. To follow. His scent drowns her in desire. She can smell his intentions. His worry. His love.

It's killing her.

Kate holds her breath, pushes herself into the furthest corner of the small kitchen, into shadow and darkness trying to escape his gaze.

Ashamed.

God, she loves him and she's going to kill him.

"There's a gun," she breaks, back snapping, the muscles in her legs changing shape, pulling and dragging as though on some medieval rack, " - behind you in the lock box." She hisses through the pain, ankles snapping upright then back harsh and fast the wrong way. Torture. "The combination - your birthday." She cries out and drops to her knees, "Shotgun in the barn out back - don't think you'll make it there now," she pleads with him again. "Try."

"I'm not going to shoot you, Kate." Castle grits out, rising to his feet, "

"I'll try to kill you," she shouts, "I'll try and I'll do it and it will _break_ me, Castle please -"

"No."

She sobs, sounds defeated. "Please don't let me hurt you." She cries again, fingernails ripping from their nail beds, "Or anyone else. Don't let me hurt anyone, Castle." Her finger bones splinters and snap, "Promise me."

Blood drips from her hands and he gasps, "I -"

She screams.

"I promise, god, Kate, I swear."

Her body shivers, she jolts, live current passing through her bloodstream and light brown hair, the same shade as her own, erupts slowly through the surface of her skin.

For a moment she stills, as though the pain is dulled by the change, the fur sprouting free.

"Tell me." Her voice is barely a whisper now, fading off into animalistic sounds, each word fought for and hard earned as her body sheds it human self and roars with ferocity.

"The female werewolf," he states bluntly noting the way she jumps at the name, knowing instinctively she's shied away from naming it, this, what she has become. He barrels on. Talks hoping he can still reach her.

"Rare."

She growls, ears elongating, stretching, pointed tips lifting through the long strands of hair that still fall around her face.

"Majestic and deadly."

The light catches her as she turns.

 _Beautiful and terrifying._

"More vicious than her male counterpart she hunts alone, transforming on the night the full moon reaches it peak."

She whimpers again, another crunch, a yelp.

"Tonight."

She moans

"They kill without regard, without mercy." He recites from memory, pushing on even when she breaks, even when though doused in shadow he thinks he can hear her crying. Human and animal alike.

"Cassstle...leave."

"No. They heal fast. That bullet wound- "

"Hurt then." She growls, electricity snapping in the air between them now, building up. "Now. Don't feeeel a - a thing."

"You almost died," he grits out, the feel of her warm, wet blood still vivid, still tainting his hands.

"Upside?" It's weak, pitiful. " Don't - please - don't want to kill you, Castle."

"You won't," Castle drops to the ground, submissive, crawls closer on his knees, catching the ripple that shimmers around her, the jolt of adrenalin immediate.

"I will."

Her jaw snaps shut, hard, bones crunching as they reform, reshape.

She rises, taller somehow, human and wolf coming together. He stands with her, voice now low, heard by her ears alone. "Female werewolves are territorial -"

She stalks toward him and he falters, unable to stop the instinctive need to step back.

"Fierce."

A crack like lightning brings her fully upright, transformation complete. She sniffs at the air, tilts her head to him, sharp and quick, as though hearing his voice for the first time.

Castle pushes himself to keep talking. "The only known survivors of a female werewolf transformation are her young -"

Taller than him now, every predatory step of her long legs arched with feline grace, odd given she's more wolf than human.

"- and her _mate_."

Hot airs bursts through her nostrils at the word. Elliptical eyes, serpentine large, inky black and doused in yellow flame. She stares back, barely blinking.

"You know I love you."

They narrow with deadly focus.

She stills for a moment. Cocks her head.

"Kate, I love you and I think you love me too. Think you heard me when I told you."

He gasps as she drops to all fours, a thunder crash as her weight beats against the ground. The torn strips of her clothes fall away behind her paws as she walks toward him.

"But if you didn't -"

Naked now, she steps out of them, teeth barred and body hunched, prone, prepared to pounce.

"Kate."

She bares her teeth, the force of the growl coming from her chest rumbling the floorboards beneath her feet. Vibrations shoot up his legs. He braces -

"I love you, Kate."

The Beckett wolf leaps and Castle goes down hard, the full weight of woman and beast landing on top of him. He grunts, forces himself still, not giving in to the fight or flight demands of his shaking body.

Long toes of once slender fingers hold his shoulders down, tongue licking at razor sharp teeth, a snarl rippling through her chest.

He stares up into the glowing yellows eyes of the woman he loves, the woman he can still see hidden behind the creature perched atop him. Castle breathes out slowly and the movement catches her attention.

She pants, hard heavy breath, hot as it falls over his face, snout and head dipping down to sniff him. She inhales at his jugular, grunts, shifts above him and sniffs again. The soft glance of her fur over his cheek has him closing his eyes, the press of teeth to his throat brief before the swipe of her tongue follows.

She nudges him once, hard and sharp with her head, not a nuzzle but not terrifying either, then she's up and gone.

The door explodes as she barrels right through it, howling, out into the night.

* * *

He lets her get as far as the dock, the lake milk white as the full moon dances over it. She raises up, snout arching, and emits a long and lonely howl aimed at the heavens. She laments, a sad call that makes his heart ache.

He keeps his promises, pulling the gun from the holster hidden under his jacket, firing off one shot that takes her down at the water's edge.

He drops to her side and pulls her cold body close to his. He stays there until the sun rises.

* * *

"You shot me in the ass with a tranq, Castle."

She's pissed, shivering in the morning sun. He'd shielded his eyes when handing her his coat, her threat to bite him keeping him from peaking this time around. The coat stops a few inches short and when she stands he can't help but see the livid red and purple mark on her right buttock. He bites back an offer to rub it better for her.

"I told you I wasn't going to kill you." He grins, handing her another blanket, "But you are a werewolf Beckett, I'm not an idiot."

He opens his arms and she smiles, soft, exhausted as she tips into him. "Yeah you are, Castle, coming up here -" she fists her hands in shirt, eyes falling to his lips, "- I could have killed you."

"Nah, couldn't hurt me even if you wanted to," his voice loses all humor as his eyes drift to hers, no longer yellow with the force of change. "You love me. "

It doesn't need a response, not right now. Last night's proof falls between them on the tail end of a sigh.

She kisses him, hard, her growl now a low and pleasant rumble in her chest.


	2. Ghost Writer

**A/N: Trigger warning : character death.**

 **The next chapter is being posted immediately for those that do not wish to read. This chapter will be the only one with a character who didn't die within the confines of the show. Thanks to Indrani for the medical information.**

 **I have always loathed the quote that inspired this chapter, now I hate it a little more.**

* * *

" _If a writer falls in love with you, you can never die."_

* * *

The low hum of florescent lights follows her down the long corridor. Weary footsteps and heavy heels click clack over the tile, barely keeping time with the continuous curling and uncurling of her fingers. She's nervous. She shouldn't be. Nothing will change, she knows that, knows the prognosis and the outcomes and all the medical buzzwords they drown her in at each meeting. None of it makes a difference. None.

She slows when the doctor approaches. He sees her long before she acknowledges his presence her head up and her mind as far elsewhere as she can allow it until forced back into reality.

"How is he?"

The man startles, obviously expecting some preamble, some small talk she refuses to make. He opens his mouth unsure what to say, just as she has been a hundred times before. Until now she's always filled the awkward silence with questions they find easier to answer.

"No sign of progress?" She guesses but his nod of affirmation still weighs heavy. "Did he ask after me?" This one never ceases to hurt, no matter she knows the answer, no matter how many times she asks it.

The doctor shakes his head again and her world would crumble, if there were much left of it to break.

"After anyone?" She doesn't waits for a response this time. "After her?"

The sad smile gives away his answer before he speaks, "He always asks after her."

They take a walk down another long corridor. Different hospital, same electronic buzz and static hum absent of sound at this ridiculous hour. Somehow this day, this night, always makes it worse. Perhaps she should put it down to the odds he mumbles of constantly. If she were a superstitious person maybe she'd give credence to the veil being thinner tonight.

She's not, so she doesn't.

* * *

The night shift doctor still acts like he has something to prove. It's partly why she said okay to him coming on board. That drive that most of the others had lost. He's heard the case, seen reports on the news and in the papers, probably watched that t.v special Martha had taken part in. When they first met he told her he felt drawn to it, taken it on as a challenge, determined to do some good. He'll learn, give up, the same as the others, but that splinter of hope he offered was too addictive to pass up.

He mumbles statistics, information she can't process anymore. Ten years in and the numbers run wild in her mind. Like ink strewn papers caught in a rainstorm, nothing makes sense. Just a crushed and jumbled mess.

No one understands the brain, that's what they keep telling her. Every consultation, every Neurologist stumped as MRI's and CT's came back showing the same thing. Blood work normal and all other organs functioning perfectly fine.

The best explanation she was given had made her breath catch, a non diagnosed diagnosis fitting of the man himself. As the words echo in her mind, she can almost feel the warm hand of the doctor on her arm. Strangely comforting, all these years later.

" _Memories are the neurology equivalent of the universe. Vast and unexplainable. Untapped knowledge and untapped potential. Why some remain and some are destroyed, some never moved beyond, we will never know. We can guess a lot, but even we don't know what we don't know."_

* * *

They stop at a door with an isolation window, bigger than the others. More light as she requested, the idea of him here bad enough.

She catches herself in a half forming smile. He'd find a way to make this better, concoct some story and have them both less on edge within minutes. But he's not here, not really.

* * *

"You can go in if you'd like." The doctor offers and she pauses, her fingers slide over the glass window, even after all this time she forces herself to take a second and brace for the pain. When she does lift her eyes she finds the room much as she did last month and the month before.

In the dim light Castle sits at a makeshift desk frantically writing. It took a lot of donations to allow him that privilege, but having experienced one of his meltdowns when they took his equipment away, the staff had all eventually agreed it was for the best. He's much calmer this way.

She hasn't done this for a while, breached the threshold. Maybe it's the all hallows call, maybe it's a way to punish herself before she leaves again, but for whatever reason tonight she finds herself drawn into the room.

He doesn't stop when she enters, doesn't flinch at the sound of the door opening or even turn when it closes behind her. It's as though she doesn't exist. It's been that way for years.

She touches at photos that are pinned to the wall, smiles at his creation, a murder board all his own. It's different, of course, to what she remembers from the precinct, this mock-up lined with scraps of paper, snippets of handwritten notes. Photos of them together, not enough, not as they should be. A coffee cup lid, a scrap of cardboard with a name scrawled upon it.

Everything pinned, everything treasured.

She circles the room, surveys everything unable to bring herself to his side just yet. It hurts a little less each time, but being here, seeing him like this, it _kills_ her.

* * *

He's not shaven for a while, his clothes are unclean, hair longer than he would like. This isn't part of their agreement. "When did he last shower."

"It's not in the chart." She hears from the doorway, turns eyes dark.

"It's not good enough."

The man nods, pity bleeding from him. He scribbles a note and she trusts him all over again, this hopeful man, to abide by her wishes.

Castle sighs and she turns following the tilt of his head to what he stares at. On the flimsy table top is a cup, old with no coffee in it, just a memory. Every now and then when he pauses, mid sentence and words falling away, he reaches for it, fingertips brushing the cold ceramic. It's the closest he comes to reality, while calm. Like an empty pen dipped into an inkwell, he draws something from this forgotten cup, spurred on to write again.

She finally comes to a rest at his side, bends to press her lips to his forehead, she takes a deep breath before forcing herself to speak, to break her heart again. "Hey dad."

"Mmm." He smiles.

Sometimes he laughs, she has no idea what he finds funny, what Kate has told him that makes him smile, what silly thing he has done to make her happy. It kills her to hear the trace of what would have been a happy life falter so far from his grasp on reality.

"Dad?"

His cheeks lift and more words fall on the blank page. Hardly any of it makes sense anymore, experts up and down the country have pulled his ramblings apart looking for a hidden meaning that will crack the code and bring him back. Some psychological breakthrough laced in the story.

It's no use, she's told them again and again, the snippets of the life they dreamt of living have more hold on him than anything the real world could ever offer.

Frustration bubbles under her skin, that feeling of being cheated gripping her chest so hard her ribs ache with the force of every breath. Alexis shouts, "DAD!"

"Oh," he startles, it doesn't happen often but somehow today she's caught his attention. His eyes lift, dark smudges from no sleep making him look far older than his years, "Hey pumpkin, I didn't see you there." He reaches for her hand, squeezes hard, "How's school?"

"Great," Alexis counters, as instructed, always supplying the truth, "I graduated five years ago."

"You did? Did I miss it?"

"Yeah, dad, you did."

His eyes drop, shame faced and confused again, "I'm sorry, Alexis, I don't remember - He looks over her shoulder and his eyes narrow, "Where's Kate?"

She sighs, "I don't know dad, where is she?"

His stare darts around the room, panic starting in the quickening of his limbs, "She was just - just here a minute ago. She must have left."

"She died, dad."

"No, she just left -" his hands shake and she's seen the devastation that comes when he's pushed too hard beyond this point, his damaged memory unable to bear the pain.

"She was here - where - where is she. Alexis, she was _just_ here." He stands and the doctor at her back flinches. She waves a hand for him to back off, not wanting him sedated.

His fists clench, he vibrates with it. Pushed too far he loses control and she loses him all over again. Days lost to sedation and the slow coaxing that gets him back to the desk. She can't handle it. Not again.

She gives in.

"She's coming back, dad." Alexis smiles, heart thumping hard as it threatens to break, "She's coming right back."

"Where is she?"

Alexis strokes his shoulder, pushes him toward the desk and the piles of scribbled upon paper, "I can hear her in the hall, dad. I'll go and tell her you're waiting." He smiles, body relaxing he sits back down, "You write 'til she gets here, okay?"

"Okay, pumpkin, have a good day at school tomorrow."

"I will."

"Love you kiddo."

"Love you, daddy."

The door closes behind her and she sinks hard against it, spine dissolving under what feels like never ending grief.

"He's still the same."

"That prognosis is unlikely to change Miss. Castle." He falters, "Sorry, I mean Mrs-

"It's fine -" she waves a hand, gold band flashing. "Sometimes it's nice to hear."

The doctor nods, "While I understand the ins and outs of your father's prognosis, the story itself - "he smiles apologetic, " Maybe you could explain?"

She takes a breath, three doctors in and this never gets any easier. Her fingers rub at her eyes, scratchy with lost sleep, but she nods before she speaks. It sounds clinical now, the story rehashed and torn apart over the years falls from her lips in the bare minimum of words.

"They were shot, Kate died, my father was in a coma for almost a year."

"Brain damage?"

"Selective and short term memory loss." She shrugs. The words fall so easily now, she's almost deaf to them, blind to the pain they once held. "It started with Nikki."

"Nikki Heat?" The doctor asks making notes, "The character based on-"

"Yeah, he wrote three books in three months." She laughs, bitter to her own ears, "Just churned them out, page after page. All he would do was write and sleep, eat when I made him." She leans against the wall of the corridor, back aching, neck cracking when she rolls her shoulders. "He'd ask where she was over and over again."

"That was when he went into the first facility."

"It was too much. I couldn't -"

The doctor nods at her tone, guilt unhidden.

"You have no idea how hard it was to see - to live through that and then -" Her eyes burn with tears that have been falling for too many years. She refuses to shed anymore. Alexis stares the doctor down, lets him make whatever assumptions he needs. "Eventually Nikki wasn't enough and when he couldn't write her anymore, he started writing Kate."

"Some of the things I've read - the tiger?"

She smiles, "That was real."

"The children?"

"No." The doctor makes notes again. "That never happened."

"So it's -"

"Everything he wished for, hoped for." She smiles at the life her father has created, the snippets she's read of the world he lives. It's happier there. They would all have been happy there. "He brought their love to the page, kept her alive with his words until -"

"Until?"

She shakes her head, it doesn't matter to anyone but her. "To him, she never left." Her eyes fall back on the closed door, mind on the promise she made but can never fulfill, "To him she's always just stepped out and he's waiting for her to come back."

"He talks to her." The man questions, and she knows he's seen it, probably tonight, before her arrival.

"Sometimes he hears her voice in his head and it just stays between the two of them." She smiles, "They have entire conversations and you can see it all play out behind his eyes."

"But tonight." The doctor tips closer, eager for detail. "Halloween. He sees her? Talks to her like she's in the room?"

"Tonight's the closest he comes to lucid." She eyes the man with suspicion now, "The closest they come to each other."

"I think perhaps it's time to let that stop. There are drugs I have in mind," the doctor smiles, "and with therapy we can help him move on and get over -"

"There is no _getting over_ ," Alexis barks.

"Miss. Castle -"

"You don't get it. He has no light to guide him home," she heaves a heavy breath. "He lost his north star..." She says sadly, remembering a speech from long ago, a time far more hopeful than now. Alexis looks the man in the eye, "He lost his partner."

* * *

In the little room angry voices try to penetrate the scene, but cold hands on his shoulder hold him in the moment. Behind Castle, the ghostly spectre of his wife strokes lightly over his arms. Her fingers are a sigh through the shaggy strands of his hair, the caress barely there, but enough.

"Alexis." He says, turning to look up at her.

"She's all grown up," Kate whispers, voice as loud as it will ever be, this one night a year.

He nods, "I don't know when that happened." He looks confused as he faces her, his cheeks red with confusion, fear. "Is it Halloween again already."

"Yeah, Castle." Kate smiles, sadly.

"You'll be gone soon."

They've tried to make the break and it never works, never lasts longer than a few months. Something pulling her back to him, something of him frozen in the time they were together.

Neither of them able to let go.

"Kate?"

She nods, "But not yet, and not for a while." Her hand curls at his shoulder, encouraging him to turn back to the paper, "Until then, will you tell me a story?"

"Of course."

"One about the children."

"The twins and bathtime?" He starts to type as her cold breath dances down his spine.

She sighs wistfully, "Sounds perfect."


	3. Veiled Love

_**We sit in bars and raise our drinks to growing old...**_

"Why does giving someone space sometimes feel like giving them away?"

The soft, broken hum of his voice behind her draws Beckett from her silent reverie, her glass not even meeting her lips before she sets it back down on the bar. The day feels never ending, the Halloween party behind her still in full swing, and the prospect of going home only slightly less appealing than drowning her sorrows. Maybe she should be surprised at the sound of his voice, but somehow she's not, she'd seen in his eyes the moment she'd sent him home, a little piece of their case had settled with him wrongly too. He's forced now to keep up the facade, the precinct at their back lost in the throws of spooky madness.

She swings around on the stool to face him, one knee slung over the other, a smile hard to find but ready to press apart her lips just at the sound of his voice. Instead it never breaks free. Beckett catches sight of his expression and her heart falls instantly; her usually jubilant writer looks dejected.

His eyes are downcast, sunken, he wears a hollowed out expression. It's not just the make-up or the costume, no matter the layers he's plastered on to hide it, she can see beyond.

"I don't know, Castle," she answers eventually, sighing. Beckett shrugs and swings back around to face the bar knowing he'll follow, "I suppose it depends on your perception of ownership."

This time she swallows down a healthy dose of her drink, not even sure she wants to have this conversation, but there is something pressing about the way he asks. She tosses out the words, hoping they sound casual, though they're anything but, "Can you give a person away? I don't know."

"I think," he says quietly, taking up the seat next to her, "You can belong to a person without being owned by them." His eyes linger when he leans into the space at her right. His head falls into the cradle of his palm, face tipped towards her and he sighs loudly.

Drawn to him, she turns, smiles softly and mirrors his movement. As someone starts another spooktastic song on the jukebox, her own chin sinks into the warmth of her palm. They sit in silence.

She takes in the width and breath, and unending depths, of her partner. The man she can't have.

He holds her eyes for a long moment, almost as though he's thinking it too. That they've put these barriers between them, that just maybe they both want to leap over and see what happens. She can feel it there between them, all the things they leave unspoken, everything that hides from the light of day slowly creeping closer.

She wets her lips and wonders why they do this.

His eyes search hers for an answer she has yet to give. To a question she's forgotten until his pleading look forces her to think back.

"True enough," Beckett replies quietly, almost silently as she lifts the glass to her lips and drains it dry, gasping a little at the burn that scorches her throat. It's grounding. Needed.

It's not easy between them, it hasn't been for a while and the tension, the difference, is weighing on them equally. They might show it in drastically varying ways, but the battle for their friendship, first and foremost - amidst everything else - is starting to pull them apart.

She came here seeking quiet, withdrawing from him, and into herself, further away with every breath. Every thrown back drink lending courage in her endeavor. Futile really given the place she chose to escape him is his own bar, surrounded by coworkers.

Beckett calls the bartender closer. With practiced confidence she points to her glass holding up two fingers and throws a thumb toward Castle. She orders for them both, needing the distraction from the awkward silence that has crept in.

"Chin up, Castle." She mumbles, "Don't make me drink alone in your own bar." She needs to give him something to focus on besides her, the weight of his eyes is starting to set fire to her blood.

He takes the drink when it comes, pausing short of throwing it back. He reaches a hand into his back pocket at the loud chime of his phone. Beckett watches him beneath the fall of her lashes, eyes down cast to give him privacy.

Her innate curiosity and the simmer of alcohol in her blood win out over propriety.

He's sad and she's nosey. Wants to know why, glad this time at least the blame won't be scattered in her direction.

He sighs again, a sound she longs to banish from his repertoire. Castle glares down, thumbs the screen hard and lets the phone clatter on the bar. He stares and then swipes at the offending device with his hand, sending it spinning past her.

She follows it, then turns to him, eyebrow raised, sardonic smile at her lips. "Not want that?"

"Gina." Castle murmurs to the dark liquid, a bitter tone claiming the woman's name before he downs the alcohol and pushes his glass after the phone. Disregarded. "We had a fight," he states simply, no emotion in the words to give away how he feels.

Beckett's gaze narrows, chewing at the edge of her lip with dissatisfaction she wants to ask - loudly and not so loudly - all the questions his confession evokes. She wants to be that person for him, the friend he can spill his disgruntled secrets to. But, as she opens her mouth to speak some nonsensical utterance that could possible spell disaster for them both, a dull, droning rattle erupts between them, breaking the silence.

It's karmic - has to be - and when his face breaks across her screen she feels her heart start to stutter. In the wrong way.

Josh.

She should answer, but ... she just doesn't _want_ to. Not tonight. And _tonight_ , she doesn't have to.

Beckett cuts off the call before it goes to voicemail, before he can leave a message from the airport, apologizing again. She doesn't want to hear it. Not now.

Her face freezes in shock at her own action. Then she grunts, poking at the phone until it slides next to Castle's, idle partners resting between them on the bar.

When she looks up, awareness already a steady hum over her skin, she finds Castle watching her. Too similar to her own earlier perusal, a knowing look passes quickly in her direction. His own unvoiced questions louder than the din that surrounds them.

"Josh," she states, copying his action and throwing the scotch back in one swift and deliberate action, hissing when it scorches her throat. She wishes she could add her own confession to the end of the action, but she's a coward and hypocrite, so she swallows down the booze and stays silent.

She's enjoying the burn, from both the booze and the glances that he's throwing her way.

The battle for their friendship, their partnership, wages here somewhere, cloaked by longing for something neither of them is willing to name.

She shrugs at her own enjoyment, at the meaning that lays behind it, the promise of what it could mean too tentative to even let her imagination flirt with.

Another drink then, let herself fall into oblivion and worry about it in the morning.

"Quite the pair," Castle says finally, when it becomes clear she doesn't plan on elaborating.

The bartender returns, eyeing them both with suspicion. The boss and his detective not quite themselves this evening.

Castle palms him a note far too generous for the cheap hooch they're sharing. He still pays, even though he owns the place. Won't eat into his own profit margins, no matter the freebies he throws to their colleagues.

It has the desired effect. The man leaves and the bottle remains. Castle knocks the bottle toward her, the glasses refilled to triple their original depth.

They find an odd peace in the silence as they sip their drinks. Accidentally matching in their costumes - much to Ryan and Espo's delight - and now in their melancholy.

She stares into the amber glow, watches the murky shift of her fingertips through the sweating sides of her glass and wonders if he's not hit the nail directly on the head of their problem.

The two of them, _paired_ with the wrong people.

* * *

He watches her as she wrings her hands around the glass and tamps down her emotions. She sets up the firm facade of nonchalance and he can't help but wonder if he's finally spoken something close to the truth.

They're not a pair, but maybe they should be? They could be?

He's spent almost half a year in denial, talking himself out of being in love with her and maintaining that sex was all that had really interested him, only to find her strolling out the door in stiletto heels; with his heart and without his permission.

Admitting his feelings - even if only in his own head - and the added fuel of competition for her affection has pushed him to breaking point. Second place had never been his strong suit and he can't even blame Gina - no matter how much easier it would make it. It's not her fault, she can't help being the wrong woman.

He's waited too long now and the loss of her friendship would be devastating. What's he supposed to say? Leave him for me? Run away with me?

Castle scoffs into his drink and catches her eyes.

"What?" Beckett asks, smile there as though caught in the act of admiring him. Castle shakes his head and waves a hand as though it hardly matters. The truth is nothing matters to him more.

"Trouble in paradise?" He asks, his voice taking on that harder, bitter edge that he's coming to recognise.

"Could say the same for you." She throws it back and quirks an eyebrow, daring him to contradict her, instead he echoes her earlier words.

"True enough."

They smile, breathe deeply and lose themselves in the sad reflections that mar the surface of their drinks.

* * *

"We could run away." She says, smiling sadly, throwing back the last of her drink and standing up.

"I'm game," he smiles back, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Never reaches his eyes.

They wave hands to a few people, making their intent to leave known. It's almost expected they'll leave together, no questioning gazes, just an acceptance that's the way things should be.

She's starting to get there herself. Missing him when he leaves the room. Wishing it was his voice she heard last thing at night.

"Name the day."

Their eyes clash. The thick alcoholic swirl leaves their gaze unguarded, too open for what they're used to.

It's an unfair demand to make of him. A stupid comment to use as a joke when humor is his defense mechanism not hers. That they're leaving to go home to other people is not so funny anymore.

She's softened to Castle inexplicably, hurts when he hurts. She listens when his voice deepens with honesty and seeks out his laughter. She's found herself opening up to him with stories of her youth, her secrets shared with no one but him.

On nights like tonight, when darkness is her shadow and she can't face leaving Castle behind and going home, Josh feels like a placeholder. Standing next to her heart but never quite _in_ it. One foot out the door as she gathers up her courage to go after what she really wants.

They part easily, no long good bye or bittersweet exchange of words. He steps in close and presses his lips to her cheek so her eyes slam closed.

He squeezes her shoulder, walks away.

It's quick and it's over.

She thinks about it, as she walks those few blocks home, the whisper of his voice around her name a ghost in her ear. All Hallows Eve and the only thing haunting her is her own conscience.

She smiles softly to herself as she leans back against her door, rubs at her eyes and fights the tired ache.

 _Name the day_.

She does.

 _Today_. The day she admits to herself she's in love with Castle.


	4. The Great Pumpkin

She pauses in the doorway, watching as little fingers battle with not really sharp enough tools for the task at hand. She's in agreement safety first nut she can see the frustration starting to melt into too forceful jab at the big messy pumpkin.

"What are you making, sweetheart?"

"Grama." She jabs again, doesn't turn to her mother, content that she's moving closer without tracking her progression.

"Grama?" Beckett eyes the somewhat hacked at pumpkin attempt of her nearly three year old daughter. She can just about make out a nose among the mess and goo.

"Yuh, daddy said was okay to make my pumpkin grama." Her eyes lift to her mother's, suddenly too wide. "It no good?"

"No, it's great," Kate smiles, following the gouge of what she assumes is Martha's hairline. Appropriately Halloween themed as it appears to stand on end.

"I did make her earrings huuuugeeee," the little girl beams.

Kate laughs, "I see baby, good job."

"Daddy said -" the little girl nods, tongue popping through her lips as she concentrates, "- daddy said mama too is a Pumpkin this Halloween."

Kate plops down next to her daughter, "Oh did he now."

The little girl grins up at her, innocent face entirely her father's, "Yuhuh." She smiles to herself knowing she's telling tales on her daddy and loving every minute of it. "Cos of all those babies," she giggles poking at the bump of Kate's belly button.

"Not _all_ ," Kate pokes back at her daughter, smiling, "just two."

"My two whole brothers."

Kate laughs, the concept of one baby hard enough for the little girl to comprehend. "What else did daddy say, sweetheart?" Kate asks, eyes narrowing, half concocted schemes of revenge already forming in her mind.

"Daddy said mama's gonna go pop." She makes the sound, loud, sharp, before her brow furrows. Kate sees herself right there in that serious little face. "Don't 'splode okay."

Kate laughs, taken by surprise, dropping down to squeeze the girl and bump a kiss to the top of her head. "I promise I won't explode."

"I'm glad to hear that." Castle chimes in appearing in the doorway to their bedroom, "Is this something I should have been concerned about before?"

"I's just telling mama 'bout her Pumpkin belly," Lily grins.

"Oh, you were?" Castle smiles, swallows, at least he has the good sense to look contrite.

"Mmhmm," Kate beckons him closer with one finger, "- apparently you had some plans for _us_ this Halloween?" She runs a hand over the ridiculously large mound of her stomach. She likes presenting herself and the bump as a united front now, before she's truly outnumbered by castle men.

"I just thought a little orange paint might look kinda cute?"

"No chance in hell." Kate singsongs back.

"But I already bought the paint," Castle grins, trying to slide into her side and throw down the charm. "Don't be a spoil sport."

"Don't be an ass."

Lily gasps, "Mama said a bad word." She giggles.

Out of the prying eyes of their daughter Kate presses a finger into her husbands chest, driving him into the kitchen, "Cover your ears baby, mama's gonna say a few more."


	5. Swift Justice

Cops and Robbers AU

* * *

" _ **I'm only one call away, I'll be there to save the day, Superman ain't got nothin' on me..."**_

* * *

"It's not my imagination," he hisses, the bank around him slowly dissolving into chaos, "definitely _not_ my imagination."

She regrets the words immediately, the dismissal of him in danger. In the background she hears the muffled barking of orders. The voice insistent yet she's too far away to do more than grab at the edge of her desk. Her nails bite into the thick surface and she has to pull back her control before she tears through the wood.

She leaves indentations like scars over the veneer.

"Castle, what's happening?" Beckett manages to get out, the panic rising in her chest. Words are hard, ears too sensitive to the change and shift of the room behind him. Overwhelmed, she tries to stay focused on him alone. "Where are you?"

He hisses the address. She snaps her fingers, catches Espo's attention and parrots back exactly what he has just said.

Both boys spin in their chairs, confused.

"Castle's there." She states, and the confusion disappears.

* * *

Seconds later she hears an unmistakable click, her gut wrenches and a voice echoes down the line, "So, you're the hero I'm gonna make an example of."

One sentence, one threat and her whole demeanor changes. Stance wide, threatening, head cocked, eyes evolving, she starts to draw stares. The phone in her hand about to splinter into pieces, she releases her grip, tries to maintain the tight hold on her changing temperament, the precinct around her now in chaos.

They work quickly to assess the situation and pass on what they know to the relevant people. It does nothing to quiet her racing heart, the hubbub spurring her anxiety.

She fights. Inside her a battle wages, war between cells and muscles, blood and sinew, organs ready to roar to life tamped down but still burning with hatred.

She's on the verge of exposing herself, giving up her secret to people who have no idea about her other identity and if she ends up splashed all over the tabloids tomorrow there's not one single part of her that would care. Not if something happened to _him_.

* * *

A voice not her own, far too calm and collected, carries on a conversation with the man holding Castle hostage. He asks if she's a cop and she wants to tell him there are worse things than the NYPD gunning for him, worse things to meet in dark alleys.

She wants to, but she doesn't, biting back her comment with the offer of an escape instead. Wit and humor ripple down the line as he casually jokes, almost taking her up on her offer to leave if she promises not to look for him.

That thing she's been keeping at bay snaps, a fire through her chest and behind her eyes, eyes that suddenly blaze from hazel to an almost luminescent green. Otherworldly now, she hisses, "I don't look. I _hunt._ "

He chuckles, and the desk at her fingertips splinters.

* * *

"Tell the Captain _I'm_ not going in." Beckett pulls open the edge of her collar and taps at her chest. " _She_ is."

The boys eyes startle up, both on their feet the second they see the flare of black and purple that usually denotes the arrival of Beckett's alter ego.

"You're serious?" Ryan asks. Espo nudges him, knows better, knows the look of determination in her eyes and the strength of the feelings she's been hiding from for too long. Masked in more ways than one.

"She won't like it." Espo warns.

Kate shrugs already grabbing her jacket and heading from the room. "What's she gonna do, fire me?"

"No, but she might suspend you, detective Beckett."

Kate whirls around to find herself face to face with Captain Gates, a stern look on her face. Her eyes bleed concern, but right now Kate isn't so sure it's about the right thing.

Her partner is in danger and if that means giving up her anonymity, she'll do it.

Consequences be damned.

* * *

Ushered from prying eyes, much to the annoyance of the ever nosy Ryan and Espo, Kate listens as her Captain pleads.

"Let's do this the right way Kate." Gates begs, "One that lets us carry on after today, making the world a better place."

Better place? That doesn't exist for her without him. Kate stops in her tracks whirling to glare, death and destruction in the look she levels at her boss.

"I have one of the _most_ lethal weapons in the _world_ at my disposal and you're telling me to _wait_?" Kate spins, hair loose, flying, eyes now aglow with unmistakable color. "For what?" She growls, steps in close to Gates, watching the woman struggle not to step back, "I'm not gonna watch him _die_."

They've been tiptoeing toward something, tentatively, almost painfully for the last year. Brushing each other the wrong way, never quite admitting how they've felt, though both suspecting. Both too damn stubborn and silent to admit it.

She's in love with him and nothing else matters. The idea of not seeing him again tearing at her heart. She breaks, voice pleading, "I _can't._ "

"I'm not asking you to, Kate." A hand strokes down her arm and Beckett heaves in a hard-to-catch breath. "I know what he means to you." Her eyes startle up and they stare at each other quietly, "But this is a _big_ secret." Gates tilts her head, offers an upturned palm as she forges on, "One we _all_ work tirelessly to protect."

Her voice is barely a whisper, "No secret is worth his life."

"I agree," Gates concedes, hand now circling Beckett's arm as she draws her away, leading her down the long corridor to the conference room, "but let me _help_ you."

Gates waits for Kate's response and for a moment she wants to refuse, to leap out into the world and save him all on her own. Now.

Silenced, it's the call of Castle's own voice in her head, reminding her that they work better as a team, that has her pulling her head out of her ass and agreeing.

* * *

Within seconds of the call going out, her team is assembled, the conference room filling up fast as they pile in. Uniforms and officers, detectives and paper pushers alike. The news of Castle's situation ripples around the room, anger and shock filling in the gaps of the story until the Captain calls them all to attention.

"We all now know the circumstances," she glances from face to face, gestures to the board behind her, the large digital display she's working from. "One of our own is in trouble.

Across the room Beckett's eyes lift, heart thumping hard at the words.

"This city has faced more than its fair share of villains, struck down more foes than seems right -" murmurs of agreement fill the air "- and we've lost good people in the process."

Kate catches Espo's eye and the memory of their old Captain fills the space between them.

"But we're a family. And every person in this room is trusted with a great secret. The great responsibility born by the woman standing over there."

She points to Kate and every eye in the room follows. Some stare some smile, some offer weak head nods of condolence that Kate ignores.

"For the last four years we have fought to protect the true identity of Swift Justice. Fought to keep detective Beckett from having her life thrown into the spotlight, just as she fought every single day for the people of this city."

Gates pauses, starts to pace, taking the hearts and minds of her enraptured audience with her.

"She has worked _tirelessly_ , _relentlessly_ , to bring down the corrupt. Rooting out the rotten core. She worked to build us back up again. To aid those in need and to throw light on the shadow of fear."

Kate feels her cheeks burning, her heart aching, the words of her new Captain unexpected and gut wrenching.

"By day she has stood beside every one of you on the streets, bringing down the worst that humankind has to offer. And every night, as we've gone home to our families, she has donned a mask and protected us while we sleep." Gate's stares them all down, taking a slow breath before she continues, "And now she's asking us for our help."

Kate holds her breath, knowing this is it. The defining moment.

"We're gonna break the rules today, people." Gates states, "There's no turning back, so from here on out, you're either with us -"

Espo opens the door, "- Or you're out."

* * *

They stay, every one of them, and if it wasn't for the ever ticking clock she'd thank each and every one of them individually for risking their lives and their jobs for her. For _him_.

* * *

Around her the plan forms.

"We're gonna create a distraction."

The team nods one by one, standing clustered around the digital display of the bank. Ryan touches the screen, spins the building and a holographic projection erupts between them. It flickers, but the building and the ins and outs come into focus quickly.

She blinks and commits the entire things to memory.

"We'll keep civilian interaction to a minimum. That means only the bank hostages and the bank robbers themselves will see it's you that goes in."

"We'll move in quickly to get them out once we get the signal from you, and with the criminals incapacitated, the hostage removal should offer you minimal exposure."

"But first things first." Ryan adds, stepping forward to take over, "We'll detonate three carefully timed explosions in the bank entry way, distracting the robbers and allowing Beckett -

"Swift Justice," Kate chimes in.

"Beckett slash _SJ_ -" Ryan acknowledges, "- to walk right in, take out the robbers and free the hostages."

"You'll let off explosives here, here and here." Gates taps the screen so Ryan can trace his destination pattern, spiked red blotches immediately appearing on the hologram. "When the smoke erupts -"

Beckett takes over, "She goes in-"

"You know it really creeps me out when you talk about her like she's not you." Espo cringes, ignoring the glares radiating in his direction.

"Yeah, Beckett, you're the one who insisted on keeping everything separate." Ryan's eyes fall on her. "Two lives, two personas, you're sure about this?"

"It's time he knew," Kate stands her ground, fiercely determined, her spine rigid, she stares down the men and women in the room, "It's not like you could stop me -"

"Settle down, Beckett." Espo nudges her arm, "We all know you, and _her_ , could take us if you wanted."

"We're surprised you've waited this long to tell him."

Her cheeks burn as people around her smile knowingly, but worry burns deeper, hotter. They're wasting time.

"Let's get to it then, people." Gates barks, "One of our own needs our help."

* * *

The group disperses immediately, quick, knowing Beckett will beat them to the bank no matter how much of a head start she gives them.

Ditching her work clothes, Beckett opens the office window and climbs onto the ledge, ears pricking up in annoyance as two floors away she hears Espo joking with Ryan.

"Castle's gonna flip out when she turns up in purple leather and a cape."

"A cape?" Ryan scoffs, "Have you met Beckett?"

Espo laughs, "Yeah, Castle will take one look at that outfit, say something insane and she'll either kiss him or kill him. It's gonna be better than shark week."

Two floors up and perched on a window ledge she mutters, "Jackass."

Taking a deep breath she leaps into the air, letting herself free-fall for a second before skyrocketing through the streets of New York city.

* * *

Swift Justice has always been a force for good, an advocate for those unable to defend themselves. A righter of wrongs. Kate Beckett has stood by that persona, that shadowed existence at the detriment to her own life because for a long time she felt she owed it to the city. To the people who otherwise would suffer as she had.

She lost her mother and she spiraled. One government experiment later and she went from grieving teenager to masked weapon to detective and defender of the meek and mild.

One loss nearly broke her and she refuses to live through another.

* * *

Tight black and purple leather guard her against the chill of the air, her skin vibrating with the need to see Castle. Below the surface she shimmers with held back force, fists clenching and releasing with a desperation she has never felt before.

The want for him, sets her on edge, makes her more dangerous than she's ever been.

Her feet touch down with a heavy thud, the weighted boots of her costume, her disguise, grounding her the instant she makes contact with the earth. It takes a second for the fierce vibration of flight to dissipate, her body righting itself.

The wind whips around her, hair pulled back by the mask that covers the top half of her face, Swift Justice pricks her ears, straining over the sounds of everyday existence. She listens for the location of her team, determined to catch up with them as soon as possible.

* * *

They arrive and fall into place. Commands and responses fire back and forth with lightning speed and it's still not fast enough for her.

She yearns to be everywhere doing everything, all at once.

She wants to do something beside panic over the fact she's about to reveal the biggest secret in the world to the man she's in love with knowing full well it could end their partnership. And before she even gets to that terrifying prospect she has to storm a bank mid robbery and save ten hostages all while avoiding the news crews stationed out front.

She hears his voice again. Castle, in her head. _Just another day at the office._

* * *

Her landing spot offers little seclusion. Her only cover for the moment is the negotiator vans shielding her but somewhere in the city reporters are already tracking her heat signature, stalking her location to try and catch a picture, crack the secret of her identity. When they pinpoint her location one of the crews at the front of the bank will get a phone call.

Once again, her team are jamming the signals. Doing their best to make this easy for her.

Every other time it's been an inconvenience she's fought against. A time restraint that has forced her to fly faster, work harder, push her powers to their upper limits just to avoid detection. Today, she doesn't care if they run her mugshot on the evening news as long as her partner comes out of this alive.

* * *

"Yo, Beckett?" She flinches, tipping her head into the sound stream, feline movement adding to the otherworldly feel of Swift Justice in action. "We're ready to go, giving you a five countdown."

"Good luck." Gates adds, quiet, knowing no one but Kate will hear her.

Espo starts the countdown.

 _Five._

One by one the explosions go off.

 _Four_

First the window, maximum impact, drama and noise, glass flies and those nearest run, screaming and taking cover.

 _Three_

Ryan nods and Espo hits the button again, taking out the double doors. More glass, more screams. The metal handles buckle.

 _Two_

The third explosion blows a hole in the wall. Her way in.

 _One._

"Go. Go. Go."

* * *

The smoke shields her entrance, the speed she moves at making it seem as though purple dust is settling in the aftermath of the explosions.

Beckett zips through the gap, dodges brick and falling ceiling, swings an arm and elbows the nearest robber in the face.

A woman.

She goes down hard, unconscious.

* * *

Disarming them is ridiculously easy. Her eyes burn as they adjust to her surroundings and then almost instantly everything is crystal clear. Through the din she can hear Castle's heartbeat, strong, singular, it stands out above everything else and it's the saving grace when it comes to taking down the robbers. The only thing that keeps her from turning this hostage situation into a massacre.

She snaps a wrist, a little harder than she should, bones crunching under the force of her grip. She binds two together with their own zip ties and attaches them neat and quick to the nearest desk.

The man on the phone she catches heading for the vault at the back and the closer she gets the louder she hears Castle's heartbeat. She forces her muscles into action, blood firing, heart hammering. Kate drags every bit of whatever mystical thing it is inside her to the surface and surges in front of him.

He raises the gun to shoot her and she's just not quite fast enough to deflect the bullet. It plows into her chest, slams hard enough to make her stumble, and ricochets straight back. It takes out the shooter. The man on the phone.

He goes down, the only casualty in a fight his own making.

* * *

She rips the vault door from the wall, pulls the damn thing off its hinges in her desperation to get to him.

* * *

"I told you," Castle crows, laughing, as Swift Justice appears. He doesn't falter, his smile never falls and for a stunned second she forgets how to move, to breathe.

"You didn't tell me _this_ ," Martha screeches, before dissolving into laughter herself. It's a little manic, a little overwhelmed but Kate ignores it, eyes on her partner, the man she has kept this rather monumental _thing_ from for far too long.

"Not my secret to tell," he says softly when she drops down in front of him.

His words hit her hard, the tender gaze almost too much. Meaning obvious the moment she lays eyes on him.

He knew. Somehow, he knew.

She turns her face away from his for a split second to center herself. Her heart thunders in her chest. _He knew? And he kept her secret. Risked his life?_ She reaches for the tie that binds Martha's hands, ripping it off before the older woman can interrupt them.

* * *

"I'm so glad you're okay." Kate murmurs, ignoring the cops around her as they remove the last of the civilians, throwing caution to the wind. She lifts her eyes to Castle's when she can take it no longer, needing to see his face, see for herself that he's really here. Alive.

Pushing the mask up from her face, she hears his breath catch. Kate shivers when he smiles this time, grabbing both of his hands in her own.

"Ready," she asks before tearing at the zip-tie. It snaps. One hand reaches for her face and she whispers, "How are you?"

"Better now." Castle touches her cheek and her eyes close.

She fists the lapel of his jacket between her fingers, brute strength dragging him closer. His eyes flare wide with the force of it, the implication, only for the merest hint of a smirk to appear.

"I knew it was you." He grins, far too pleased with himself, tugging a little when her mouth hovers just out of reach.

She smiles too, bites it back. Gives as good as she gets, just like always.

"Shut up." She hums, and their lips meet, silencing them both.


	6. Happy Halloween

**A/N:** Slightly delay.

* * *

He stares as she gets ready. Doesn't try to hide it, the way his eyes are drawn to her time and again, he just sits at the end of their bed half dressed, watching. Soft, yet somehow strong, feminine in her manly attire, Kate Beckett pre-party is a sight to behold.

She's giddy, the excitement of victory racing through her blood and if he kissed her right now he knows he'd taste the sweetness of it on her skin. She hums with it.

She rocks the flares too, he knew she would. Long legs and tight denim, not like he doesn't see it every day, tighter somehow in the era style. She's gone all out for this, for their party and she's loving every minute of the prep.

Sexy, effortlessly so, right up until she starts gluing on the beard.

It's dark, short, ridiculously realistic and it's doing nothing for him. He likes to see her face, be able to lean in and stroke the silken skin of her cheek. Instead, when she tips up to him for a kiss, he wrinkles his nose, bristles like spider webs, and tries not to sneeze.

"Poor baby."

He huffs, trying not to lose his balance when she pats him on the chest. He really needs to be giving her more credit for running in heels, he can barely stand in his. He moans, "It tickles."

"Stubble burn, Castle, constantly." She laughs, reminding him, eyes flicking down dirtily, "You won't win this round with me."

He shrugs and she grins, looping her hair into a pony. Kate flips herself upside down, dragging the last remnants out of sight, pinning it all into a neat bun. It's mesmerizing to watch. The slow transformation coming to her easily, fingers deft at the pins and the finer details of taking on the persona of another person.

It kick starts his brain with ideas for Nikki, for undercover and maybe something a little sexy for the two them later. When the beard's off and he's set fire to the devil shoes attached to his feet.

When she rights herself, he gulps, the wig is too much. She's got this whole _Pi vibe_ going on that frankly scares the living daylights out of him.

She knows it too, keeps throwing him these dark glances, eyes too bright and too delighted with his predicament.

Why he agreed to this he has no idea. He lost the bet, he remembers that much and he's not one to ever back down when it's fair and square, but she _cheated_. With the cream and the lingerie and the whole _let's do this real quick, Castle._

Wasn't quick in the end.

His eyes glaze a little as the memory starts to sizzle over his skin. He hears her laugh from across the room, catches her cheeks pinking up. She knows exactly what he's thinking. Giving it away when she struts into the bathroom, platform heels tapping and hips swaying like that first damn day.

Cheat. She's a cheat.

Now it's Halloween and there's eyeliner, bags of make-up and his fiancee grinning like the Cheshire cat.

It's hot. Figuratively, literally under the layers and the latex. He's not even wearing the wig yet.

Kate's steady slink from bathroom to bed draws his attention back from his sulk, eyes over every defined curve and longing for this night to be over for more reasons than the obvious impending humiliation.

The idea of dragging those denim jeans down her legs with his teeth leaves him open, vulnerable to her distraction and fiendish fingers.

She pinches. He yelps.

Hand to his chest, she pushes him back and when he sits heavily on the bed Kate somehow climbs into his lap. Shifting in those ridiculously tight jeans enough that she can straddle him, she pops a quick kiss to his stunned lips.

"Ready?" Kate asks and her eyes dance, lips pouting through the fake beard as if expecting him to back out.

Not a chance in hell.

"Let's do it." He challenges, hands looping around to hold her in place. Copping a feel of the feelable cop.

She hums, concentrating. Breath a tickle and the whole thing weirdly sexy. He moans as she comes in close, pen poised and lips pursed. Kate touches the brush to his skin and he flinches.

"Not too thick, I don't want to look - "

"Look what?" Kate freezes, weight sliding to the back of her thighs as she leans away, stares him down. "I put this on everyday, what are you implying here, Castle?"

She narrows her eyes and there is no safe way out of this, no way to save himself - except, maybe, the wig.

Strong arming her, Castle drops Beckett onto the bed and dives straight into character. Pulling the wig into place, "If I could turn back time -"

She bites her bottom lip and it quivers, whole body vibrating with the need to giggle. "Oh, my."

"- if I could find a way."

She _heemps_ under her breath, bites back the laughter when he wobbles on his spiked heels, his strut too reminiscent of his weeks post wheelchair. He might need the crutches again after she's done with him.

He could kill her for this choice of costume, but they both know if he'd won it would have been just as bad. Maybe worse. He lapses into song just to hear her laughter.

"I'd take back all the words that'd hurt you..."

She breaks, hard, holding up a hand and trying to breathe, she just gets out, "I'll- I'll stay."

He takes a quick bow, the corset tight, riding up the crack of his - crack. It's tight, uncomfortable. Not to mention the god awful wig falling into his eyes every time he moves.

But he's worn worse.

He grins, leaning over her until she falls flat on the bed, pulling him down on top of her. "S'just the boys, ya know?" He frowns, something of the truth bleeding out, his often hidden insecurity breaking the surface.

She pouts, strokes his freshly shaven face, smile coming quick and devilish. "I'll make you look hotter than Espo the year he was Frank-N-Furter?"

Pride stirs in his chest, "Promise?"

"Babe." She snorts, breathes deep to maintain her composure, flipping him when he's unprepared. "I got you, babe," she grabs the eyeliner, "and this."


End file.
